


(But I Won't Do That)

by DovahDoes



Category: Far Cry 3
Genre: Actor/Model!Jason, Adorable Frustrated Jason, Adorable Sleepy Jason, Alternate Universe, Crossdressing, Established Relationship, Frottage, Grinding, Implied D/s, Just sayin', Kinda, M/M, Mild Smut, Nothing too explicit, OOC, Photographer/Director!Vaas, The Mature rating is really for ch. 1, Y'all please heed the above 'OOC' tag, by way of it being an AU where I 'borrowed' an author's interpretation of these characters, just a lil bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-06 10:25:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6750148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DovahDoes/pseuds/DovahDoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is an AU where our intrepid protagonist, Jason Brody, is a well-known model (recently dabbling in acting) with a pretty huge social media presence.  He is dating the scaldingly hot photographer-turned-director, Vaas Montenegro, and they are an Adorable Couple. </p><p>Today, there is work to be done. Unfortunately, at least one half of the dynamic duo would much rather keep catchin' Zs.  Whatever will the outcome be??</p><p>(Spoiler: the work gets done.  It's the journey to that point, however, that makes it exciting. *winkwink*)<br/>*   *   *</p><p><b>7/5/17</b>-  (Forgot to post the 2nd chapter when I initially posted this fic, a year ago. Haha.  S'just a little omake, anyway, but enjoy the update?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Getting (It) Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Demonized](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demonized/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Her Mistake, His Fortune](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6288049) by [Demonized](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demonized/pseuds/Demonized). 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Yes, the title is the second half of the chorus in a very well-known song by Meat Loaf.)
> 
> Alright, so this AU was inspired by the lovely Demonized (who I pester on the reg with over-long, rambling comments on their fics) and specifically, the Vaason story, Her Mistake, His Fortune. Even more specifically, Vaas’ determination to throw Jason into elaborate and skimpy outfits whenever convenient (as well as when it’s not). Plus, ♡ h e e l s ♡
> 
> So, I made them their very own universe where it is essentially Jason’s job to do all these things. That is, he’s an actor/model and he went crazy viral when he started doing his cosplay shoots. (Really, they verge on [gravure](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gravure_idol), sometimes, but that’s neither here nor there.)
> 
> Naturally, his photographer (/publicist/manager) is his boyfriend, Vaas, who never complains about helping however he can. (Groping and leering come free.) On the real side, though, the guy is actually an extremely well known up-and-coming feature film director.  
> *  
> Concrit is welcome, as I have no beta (yet), and this is my very first fic ever. Be nice?

**Thursday, 8 AM**

 

" _Jaaaaasooon_!"

Oh no. No, no, no. Not again. Not today.

"Jason!  Precioooso.  You know what day it is!"

Just-- what if, just. Maybe if he just buries his head well enough underneath every pillow within reach, there might be hope of escaping--

"Fanservice Friday is a serious and binding commitment, Cariño."

A slight weight depresses part of the mattress passed Jason's feet, both of which he promptly begins to pull closer to his body, reflexively. Unperturbed, his appallingly awake significant other continues speaking, his tone a bit more terse.

"Jason, come on.  We have a strict fucking schedule to uphold, you know this by now, eh? The very consistent metrics on each platform prove that the largest uptick in subscribers and viewership each week is directly linked to Friday’s activity. Eh, Jason? Right?"

An explosive sigh is still audible, even muffled by several layers of fabric and dense filling.

"Mmmnnnn. Vaa-aaaaasss," the being partially smothered under a mass of fluffy bedding whinges huskily, shifting to lay flat on his back, and stretching out long, smooth legs. (Eagle-eyedly observing this, one self-impressed boyfriend congratulates himself on converting a certain white boy to wearing not much more than a close-fitting pair of short boxer briefs to bed.)

The singular depression at the bottom edge of the mattress becomes two-- and quickly thereafter, four, when two more points of weight land right outside of Jason's ankles.  By the time the indentations move even further up the bed and start to loosely take the shape of a cage around his torso (and maybe between his legs), the lethargic man begins to take an interest in waking up. Additional cajoling is not unwelcome, however, and it is promptly provided.

"Cariño, please. We have to get this done before 10, finish editing and processing by 11," Vaas murmurs, lowering himself from hands to forearms, and allowing his lower body to rest softly against his lover's, " _and_ get the teaser images up and cross-posted by noon." 

Evidently, the juxtaposition of dry business talk and a very hot body (in every sense) seems to be just the right formula to motivate the young man that had mere minutes earlier been determined to extract a few more hours of sleep out of the morning.  Using one hand to shuffle half the pillows covering his head over the side of the sleeping area, and the other to wrap around a densely muscled waistline, Jason finally accedes to the loss of any more rest and reluctantly opens his eyes for the first time that day. Thus, he swiftly catches his paramour sporting a particularly mischievous grin.

Furrowing his brow in well-ingrained suspicion, the still groggy and bedraggled man opens his mouth to protest the sudden and extraordinarily smug attitude he can see his companion exuding.  What actually exits his mouth, though, is a soft and surprised (but no less pleased) moan, as Vaas very purposefully presses more of his weight onto his prostrate lover, being sure to flex his hips forward and initiate a very dirty grind of their clothed nether regions.

Completely unprepared for this angle of attack, the dazed, freshly-conscious man has no chance, reacting before he can shore up any defenses.

"Ah, _Vaas_. Ah. F-fuck," Jason  intones, voice still scratchy from slumber, hips beginning to roll up in a rough counterpoint to his boyfriend's. Now _very_ much invested in the proceedings, the younger of the two strains upward to capture upturned lips with his own, both breath and heartbeat beginning to pick up.  Much to his chagrin, it is barely a minute later that the unfairly fit male above him pulls back from their lip lock, again smirking.

"Well, well, well, Querido, look who is most definitely... up for the day."  Vaas punctuates his exact meaning by way of a none-too-gentle squeeze of his partner's fabric-covered dick, eliciting a breathy sound of pleasure-pain, and a tightening of the grip that has moved from about his middle to drape lazily over his neck and shoulders.

"Aht! None of that, now, Jason, hm?" Vaas lightly scolds, gathering each of Jason's hands, eventually grasping both wrists in his own hand and raising them, crossed, up above the head of mussed brunet hair. "These right here? These are _mine_ , and I say they keep themselves out of trouble for the time being. Yes, that's right, I saw your other hand trying to creep on up, to-- well, who knows."

With that, rich carnelian pectorals are suddenly much closer to Jason's face than they were moments ago, and oh-- _oh_.  He cannot help but to thrust his erection against the sturdy thigh taking residence so close to the apex of his own thighs.  Jesus, _fuck_ is it hot in the master bedroom.  Or is it maybe just Jason, ever susceptible to his boyfriend's lusty machinations?

He is expecting to feel smooth (but strong) fabric winding about his wrists and drawing them closer to the headboard any second, but instead feels the tender press of lips against one wrist, and then the palm of his other upturned hand.  Ah, there must be some reddening where the aforementioned ties had sat last night, then.  The sight of any marks against Jason's admittedly very pale skin almost always brings an even _mor_ e amorous version of his lover to the fore, which also means he is liable to-

"Uhn! Shit," he bites out, hips involuntarily twitching upward, and sparking even more heat in his lightly flushed body at the constant contact with the thinly covered warm skin above him, "Goddammit, Vaas! You can't just go around gnawing on people! Especially since my arms are still-"

"What, Cariño? Sore? Bruised?"  A deliberate lick of a moist tongue across his radial pulse point punches a hot breath out of the softly panting man beneath him. "Mm... _sensitive_?"

Slipping back down to line his body up with his beau's once more, the older of the pair cannot help but to catch his lover's heated gaze.  Light, bluish-green irises are wholly focused on his own darker eyes, both parties sporting intensely dilated pupils and not much color to speak of.  Vaas smiles again and dips down to initiate a rather filthy kiss.

He also takes a moment to tighten his grip significantly on Jason's unbound wrists-- feeling more than hearing a sharp exhalation momentarily interrupt their obscene osculation. Slowly, he slips his other arm beneath the perspiration-slick tailbone, sliding the back half of tight, aquamarine underwear beneath one of his favorite attributes of his Tesoro's beautiful body: that ass.

The one place nearly as erogenous as Jason's dick (and somehow more-so than his wrists), are his buttocks. So the second Vaas takes a solid handful of one cheek, it's as though a livewire also takes liberties and touches the dazed young man, causing him to loudly keen out a cracked moan. He tilts his head back as his lower half leaves the bed entirely, encouraged by the proprietary grip Vaas maintains on his behind, and he curls one leg over Vaas' own lower back, leaving the other bent with his foot planted for better leverage.

" _Fuck_ , fuck-- please. Vaas, Corazón, c 'mon. Just lemme-" Almost immediately, his tease of a partner levers himself mostly upright; deliberately reaching up his hand that had slipped down to rest next to Jason's head and pressing down briefly, once more against yet unbound wrists, the order therein implicit.

With one of his lover's legs sliding down his damp back and past his own rear, and the other laying bent, outside of his own legs, Vaas’ worked up pretty boy looks pitiably bereft at the swift change in both pace and position.  And oh _fuck_ —the sad, confused puppy dog look is incoming and he is _never_ prepared for that heart-rending shit.

"Wh-? I--. Was my pronuncia-," Jason begins, dimly wondering if he's badly backslid in his decent language skills. Before the half-formed thought is verbally realized, he is being grasped about his hips and is lifted/dragged slightly downward while his lover shuffles forward slightly, eventually leaving his bare hindquarters snugly fit to a turgid length he can feel even through a layer of both underwear and the canvas of worn cargo pants. With a sharp exhalation, his eyes close and then re-open only to find Vaas hasn't broken the sultry stare fixed upon his visage. 

All confusion dissipates at the simple change in position, and he feels the heat rekindling between them, permitting the flames to be further fanned when the other male leans forward, once again, to plant a single arm beside a pale, blush-pink torso.  Vaas uses his free hand to lift the leg that has been descending toward the bedding and repositions it to rest upon his back, and Jason soon raises the other so they meet there. Now bracketed by smooth, toned thighs, the elder of the two can feel his own blood begin to rise.

"Cariño," Vaas breathes, smoldering gaze in full effect, eyes half-lidded and lips slick and swollen, "I need you to do something for me, yes?"

His own regard having shifted to those slightly parted lips, and barely cognizant of any words being directed at him, Jason shifts slightly, feeling the captor of his attentions lay a possessive hand on the base of his straining hard-on. Torn between crying with relief at the touch and crying in frustration at the sedate pace of said touch, he formulates an answer.

"Yesyesyes, yes. Anything. _Anything_ , Vaas," he rambles, biting his lip to stifle a grunt when the proprietary grip on his member _finally_ begins to move, running from root to tip, if a bit lightly.  When his boyfriend also deigns to harshly press forward and partially wedge his own (still clothed) manhood between the cheeks of Jason’s (very unclothed) ass, while still caressing his very neglected dick with one hand, it is nearly his unraveling.  His legs, locked around a back tightly corded with muscle and sinew,  tighten momentarily and he feels a spurt of viscous precome absorb into his underwear.

"Ah, mierda!" Unable to remain completely unaffected, Vaas curses as his hips twitch forward again, involuntarily, clearly having felt some sign of Jason's slight emission, but he still manages to rasp out his reply, "Fuck.  _Anything_ , hermano?"

With his head tilted back, and his ascent to a very close peak hastening, his response is near mindless, and _very_ loud.

"Nnngh, fuck! Y-yes. _What is it_?"

Rarely in the past has Jason so appreciated just how quickly his lovely significant other can move.  He enjoys the benefits of his other half’s intense exercise regime by way of very vigorous and enjoyable marathon sex, in addition to more adventurous positions during said sex.  He also does not complain when manhandling and/or carrying of his person occurs, as this, too, is also typically a prelude to the aforementioned athletic and enjoyable sexy time.

All of these wonderful things are promptly nearly outweighed by his very fit lover's _very_ abrupt  and miraculous disappearing act.

"....what. The fuck," he whispers to himself, equal parts perplexedly and venomously.

A voice reverberates from the walls of the hall outside the bedroom, likely cast from quite a way away, now.

"I'll see you in thirty in the office, Mi Amoooor!"

What. The fuck.

 

* * *

**7 Minutes Later**

 

Jason looks down at the clothed outline of his defeated semi, and both the man and his manhood deflate a little bit more, if only in different ways.  Closing his eyes, he attempts to employ some yogic breathing to tamp down the frustrated scream/diatribe lodged in his chest.  In the ensuing silence, it is all too easy to hear the next bit of exposition for his day, as shouted by his breakdown-inducing boyfriend.

"This week's ensemble is hanging on the hook inside the bathroom, so it can catch a bit of steam and relax some of the fabric a little.  Underwear is there, too, and don't forget to check out the reference file on the dresser!"

With a huff, Jason swings his legs off the side of the bed, levers himself up with no difficulty, then spends a few minutes getting in some good stretches before plodding off toward the master bathroom. If he willfully ignores the precisely angled tablet device on the way to yank shut the bathroom door, all the goddamn better.

 

* * *

 

**10 Minutes Later**

 

Vaas has long-finished double-checking the lighting setup and the color of the alternate backdrop draped over the settee in the corner, and has moved on to writing up the captions and descriptions for the imminent posts on Tumblr, Facebook, and several other social media sites.  If he maybe spent the 8 minutes his gorgeous Tesoro spent in the shower to furiously  masturbate, then nobody needs to know.  And so what if he went slightly off script from his original plan to sweetly kiss Jason awake, then smoothly lead him off to get prepared for their scheduled photoshoot.

One taste and one look at his feisty pretty boy, pouty and mostly asleep in their bed temporarily knocked the gods-given sense right out of his head in favor of nature-driven primal lust. Just-- _fuck_.  All that skin, and those livid bruises on his pretty, gypsum-pale wrists-- to say nothing of the hickey on his shoulder (from last night) that he likely has no idea exists.

And _shit_ , if that isn't his dick making a valiant effort to come back to fucking life already.  Surreptitiously glancing about, the lone male straightens the worn-in red tank top and reaches down yet lower to... adjust something else entirely, in his pants.  Unwilling to delay doing so any longer, he rebuckles his belt and considers whether a change o-

"Vaas! What the ever-loving _shit_ is _this_?"

"Gah!" There seemed to have been no reason to _not_ to hold his exorbitantly expensive DSLR camera in one hand, up until the fright of his (recent) life sends it fumbling and tumbling through the air, only to be saved by some unexpectedly good reflexes. "¿ _Que chingados, Jason_??  What?  What _life-altering_ fucking event made you feel like you needed to remove at least _ten fucking years_ from my life span? Huh? What?"

Whirling around, the huffy photographer-turned director is met with the sight of his equally huffy younger lover.  Glancing down at his watch and back up at what Jason is wearing, Vaas seems at a loss, himself. His brows are scrunched up in an expression so endearing, that Jason is liable to try to kiss it away on a good day.

"Actually... que es eso?"

Frowning, Jason replies immediately: " _That_ is what I am trying to ask _you_. All I found was the underwear, these thigh highs, the-- the fur collar thing, and a long coat-"

"Duster, I think."

"--and a long duster-"

"Dusters by definition _are_ long or full-length coats, typically made without but-"

" _Vaas_. For the sake of all that is holy, and _maybe_ to validate my decision to take a cold shower instead of putting us behind schedule by _jacking off_ in the shower, would you _please_ tell me that there is more to this half-assed, half-finished costume I'm wearing? "

As a credit to exactly how long they have been dating, and maybe because of some inspired sympathy at hearing Jason did not actually get himself off, Vaas decides to stop agitating his significant other and actually be straightforward, for once.

"Of course there's more, Precioso.  Did you bring the shoes with you?" he asks, setting down Loba, his new Nikon D5 on a nearby desk (with _two hands_ , at that), and walking toward his slightly taller companion.

Somewhat taken aback at the rapid de-escalation of what would have usually been a vitriolic back-and-forth of sniped lines of dialogue, Jason simply steps halfway out of the room and leans over to grab the pleather boots he'd carelessly dropped just outside the door frame. (Silently, Vaas chokes on his spit when he catches a glimpse of his lover's gorgeous ass clad in naught but a tight, leather-like speedo.  The eye-pleasing spectacle ends when the requested items are brought into the room.)

"Uh, um. Yeah. Here they are," the half-dressed model pronounces carefully, handing over the rather  weighty footwear.

Promptly, the obsidian-hued shoes are upended before his eyes, and several long strips of what look to be more pleather fall to the ground as well as a black and white headband of some sort.  What the fuck is he supposed to do with these, what, almost 10 belts? It is now _his_ turn for confusion to crease his forehead.  As is usual when he finds himself puzzled by the circumstances surrounding him, he looks to his boyfriend.

"I'm not even gonna' ask if you wondered why these boots were, like 15 fucking pounds on their own, Jason," he chuckles, not unkindly, "so we'll just work on getting you dressed before all the ambient light starts dwindling in here, hm?"

Well fuck. He kinda' figured the soles of the boots were some heavier material, maybe.  And yeah, that sounds pretty absurd in hindsight.  To his quasi mortification, he finds his cheeks heating up in a familiar way.  If only this shoot required some heavy makeup-work, not just the usual bit of concealer for blemishes along with the slight darkness under his eyes. (Alright, and a bit of tightlining might’ve been used on his upper lid.)

By the time he shuffles his way over to his boyfriend, perched on the super plush divan that is set against a far wall, all 8 or 9 of the thick, imitation leather belts have been laid out.  Beside them is a pair of gloves in a matching color that he hasn’t noticed before. Vaas sits at the edge of a cushion and beckons him to stand between the V of his legs.  It is only after the first two strips-- smaller than all the others-- are being wrapped around his right thigh, placed about where a garter belt usually sits, that he begins to fully see where this is headed.

These scraps of material _are_ the outfit.

He indulgently acquiesces to the tug on his hand and easily straddles the very comfortable lap in front of him.  It actually makes enough sense to not to warrant a token complaint, once his boyfriend starts intently passing each dark-colored strap behind his back (but under the duster) and grabbing it on the opposite side with the other hand, only to fasten it closed with an ornate, golden buckle.

The very last (and highest) band cuts horizontally across his chest, like a very interesting censorship bar for his nipples.  Glancing down, he sees that the several belts below his waist sit diagonally-- some of them crisscrossing-- all the way down until the final one, which slants across some of the skimpy black bikini briefs.

While Jason is distracted by the outfit being so handily assembled on his body, Vaas lowers the angular black and white bunny ears to sit properly on his lowered head, quickly rearranging lightly styled hair to hide the band.  When blue-green eyes raise and blink up at him, he grabs the next object and brings it forward to snap shut at the back of his paramour's neck, fluffing the white faux fur up as he pulls his hands back.

Fuck but he has a hot boyfriend, thinks each male in regards to the other-- perhaps a bit more acutely from one in particular. Tawny sepia-toned hands gently slide one onyx glove onto a pale hand the color of light ash-wood.  Gently, the opposite hand is grasped next, and a gentle kiss is placed on the makeup-covered wrist before the matching glove is fitted over the area.

Blushing nearly down to his chest after the tender gesture, the native Californian quickly extricates himself from the grip of his partner, who is sporting a wide, bemused smile.  He decides to busy himself with final adjustments to his wardrobe while the other man does the same for his pricey camera ('Loba, Jason! She has a name, godammit!') and lighting equipment.

It has gone fairly quiet in the last few minutes, so the voice floating from across the room takes him a bit by surprise, halfway through slipping on the second, slightly-heeled boot.

"So you didn't check the character's reference file I made, did you, before hypothetically busting down the fucking door, huh?"

The question is heard and promptly ignored, especially in light of the prolonged giggle following it.  He takes a minute, flexing his foot up and down, and rolling it a few times to get used to the shape and fit of the footwear.

"Okay, I'm good to go, Vaas. How about you?" Jason asks, shaking out any tension in his shoulders as he strides into the middle of set, his form suddenly becoming thrice as well lit.

"Mm. ¡Bien, listo, Cariño!  Now give me some sexy vampire vibes, yes?  Maybe throw in for me a little apathy, too.  You know, like you _don't care_ that you're a sexy vampire…. yes! Exactly like that! Now give me more!"

 

* * *

 

**3 Hours Later**

 

Both men lie sated and sweaty, panting after a good (if not somewhat truncated) round of celebratory sex.  ('Fucking _shit_ , Vaas, we already had tantric thousand-hour sex last night!  I just want that orgasm you fucked me over on this morning!')  The near-silence is punctuated only by the mechanized sound of the A/C turning on and the rapidly slowing breaths of the two bed partners, quiet though they are.

The wet, somewhat muffled slap of something hitting the tiled floor of the attached bathroom slightly rouses Jason from his post-coital stupor.  A smooth voice comes from somewhere close behind his ear, as a steel band of an arm lowers, then tightens across his chest, drawing him to fit more snugly against the body neatly molded to his back.

"Mm, no worries, mi amor, s'only the washcloth."

Ah, right. That.  They had both ended up pretty filthy by the end of the proceedings.  Speaking of...

"Hey Vaas, Corazón, thanks for waiting on my second one, there.  One earth-moving climax was all I wanted after this morning, so _two_ was certainly a treat  S'weird you seemed set on just your one, but hey, if you think that makes us even, somehow, who am I to ar-- argyiuhh- argyi-UHHauhh?" Jason murmurs, doing his best to speak through a jaw-cracking yawn that eats up the entire tail end of a sentence.

Not missing a beat, his lover, whose eyes are closed against the light of early afternoon, responds.

"Nothing more deserving than those thigh high white socks and those sexy leather b-"

"Pleather-- too much viewer opposition to animal products."

"--than those sexy pleather boots with the buckles and shit. This was a _really_ good getup.  Actually, last I checked, we already blew past last week's metrics for comments, new subscribers, additional followers, etcetera etcetera.  People like leath-- _pleather_ shit with buckles, hermano."

Things are mostly quiet for another few minutes, the only excitement being the sheet surreptitiously making its way up to their waists, by way of Vaas’ wayward hand.  Somewhere down the hallway, a distant but distinct jingle repeatedly sounds, indicating a requested Skype call.  It, too, soon turns to white noise in the face of a potential afternoon nap for two very sleepy people.

"...I think you just like me in heels," Jason sluggishly states, dopey grin in place, half-buried by the pillow, "which is crazy considering that I already have you beat by, like, 3 or so inches."

The alleged heel-obsessed boyfriend doesn't do much, other than slowly shuffling his lower body forward and flexing his pelvis to briefly brush against those much-loved (and abused, now) cheeks.  He also tilts his head forward on the pillow to place his mouth closer to his boyfriend's ear and softly speaks.

"That may be true, cabrón, but not where it counts."

A deep and echoing smack echoes down the hall and into the same room where a monitor now displays a blinking 'Missed Call' notification.  Accompanying the percussive sound is an almost hysterical cackle, which is shortly thereafter joined by a grudgingly amused chuckle.

Outside, a cloud soon moves to cover the reddening sun, and indoors, similarly, silence reigns once more.

 

_FIN_

* * *

 

[Link to the Outfit](https://www.google.com/search?tbm=isch&q=bravely+default+vampire&oq=&gs_l=#tbm=isch&q=bravely+default+female+vampire&imgrc=T64f77Eu5IwE4M%3A)

[Jason's Undies](https://www.bjornborg.com/can_en/bb-horizon-1-p)

([Runner up undies](http://www.holycool.net/wp-content/uploads/2013/11/Stonemen-M-ens-Boxer-Shorts.jpeg) that sadly didn't make it to the fic)

[Link to Loba](http://kenrockwell.com/nikon/d5.htm)

 

* * *

Come find me on [Tumblr](https://citraisafuckboy.tumblr.com/)! c:

(Shit, yo, go say hello to [Demonized, there, too](https://deathqueenlin.tumblr.com/)\-- and check out the [fem!Jason RP](http://jlalobabrody.tumblr.com/), while you're there!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This bitch is unbeta'd, so any mistakes are my own. Bear with me for a bit while I find myself one, and any funky mistakes should disappear, soon.
> 
> Although, if I mucked up any of the Espanol, let me know. (I studied French, not Spanish.) 
> 
> P.S. Comments & kudos are very much appreciated! Pity the first-time fic author, hm? <33


	2. Omake #1: Just A Little Extra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All's well that ends well! Also? Jase, 'clean as you go' is some pretty solid advice, just saying.
> 
> (I remember working on writing the smut I cut away from in ch. 1, but instead, seem to have only ended up with a small, silly portion of the day after ch.1. #Oop.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This takes place the day after the previous chapter. c:
> 
> This has been sitting, completely forgotten, in a dust-covered Word document for, like, **a full year**. _Yikes_. Just wanna get this online before I accidentally delete the thing. Haha)

**Friday, 1:30 PM**

 

"¡Oye!  Jason come look at this!"

 

"Uhhkech! Kunging!"

 

Spitting out the mouthful of minty fluff that is the very last dregs of the toothpaste, he quickly finds the bottle of his preferred mouthwash and sets to swishing around a good amount of it as he ambles down the short corridor.  In hindsight, he probably could have responded after getting rid of the maw-full of toothpaste, he thinks, as he recalls having briefly observed a few tiny, sudsy flecks of white on the mirror that had been in front of his face.  Oh well— seems like a problem for Future Him, he decides.

 

"Jason!"

 

Already shuffling down the hall, the mildly irritated brunet pops his head round the corner of the kitchen's entryway just in time to bear the brunt of the most recent bellow of his name.  Unable to reply verbally, he lets his raised eyebrow get his point across to his lover.  (Who, all things considered, really seems more distracted than sorry, so far as expressions go.)

 

"Oh— sorry, Cariño, didn't see you there. Anyway, c'mere, look at this!"

 

The laptop sitting atop the kitchen island is spun toward him, slightly, as he walks closer.  However, what is even more important than whatever today's incomprehensible meme that Vaas wants to show him, is getting rid of the liquid, freezing fire that bears the name 'mouthwash'.  Holding up his index finger in a plaintive gesture for more time, he lets the kitchen sink serve its purpose and then quickly runs the pipe to rinse everything clean.

 

Exhaling a gust of arctic air from deep within his lungs as he turns and ambles forward, Jason smoothly moves to lean against the counter on his forearms, body angled to press lightly along Vaas' seated form.  He pulls the open laptop closer and peers down at the screen, deadset on ignoring the _very_ unimpressed expression being directed at the side of his head.

 

"So, uh.  Cool?  Is this... me?" he queries, clicking on the image to enlarge it, and maybe starting to blush as he reads some of the tags attached as well as a few of the comments underneath.  Everything looks pretty accurate to his cosplay, except...

 

"Hey, so why... are my eyes brown, in this?"

 

Vaas chuckles, not unkindly, at his side.

 

"You really doubled down on avoiding the character reference images, this time, mm?"

 

Nearly instantly, Jason straightens his posture to properly look at his extremely bemused partner, who has reached forward to reorient the laptop more to his own liking.

 

"Wh- what? No!  Well, I mean, yes-- I never _did_ check out the file, but-"

 

With a click or two and one keystroke on the keyboard, Vaas turns the screen to again face his boyfriend.  Three images take up the full space of the display: a final 'print' shot of Jason in the cosplay, a screenshot of a female character wearing the same outfit, and next to that is a screenshot of another character from the same game that looks familiar.

 

"Oh. Right. So.... you edited my eye color in the final shots.  Because that's what Taz-"

 

" _Tiz_ Arrior."

 

"-because that's what Tiz looks like.  Okay.  Cool.  In that case, that is some badass fan art," Jason enthuses, "especially because the teaser was only out yesterday, and the actual photoset has been up for less than three hours.  Damn."

 

As he continues scrolling through more of the comments, even quickly responding to a few, the man to his left slides from his perch on the stool, slightly twists his torso to one side while doing an impressively awkward-looking tricep stretch that leaves one arm being pressed down toward his back by the other’s palm pressing down on an elbow that is pointed straight up, and then strides out the second entrance to the kitchen.  When the sound of jangling keys reaches him moments later, Jason follows his lover's example and stretches, rolling his shoulders and then his neck, feeling the uncharacteristic amount of stubble catch and rub against the fabric of his Henley.

 

He pats his back pocket, making sure his phone is present and meets Vaas in the hall by the front door. The absent-minded actor commendably remembers to grab both of their IDs for the film lot from their place on a little wooden table, and half-turns to hand one to his inexplicably smirking companion.

 

"Here, don't forgeAUGHH, _FUCK_ , Vaas!   _The fuck was that for?_ " he fairly yelps, rubbing vigorously at his almost numb ass, most definitely not hearing a bit of a wheedling tone in his own voice.

 

Unconcerned, his lover punches in a few numbers on the alarm system's display and opens the front door, motioning Jason forward. Not wanting to piss off the motion sensors when they engage in a few dozen seconds, the aggrieved young man sprily steps forward and outside, still gingerly running a hand over his smarting buttocks.

 

"Well, for one, I'm gonna' have to call your lovely mother and ask if you have always been confused on differentiating between a kitchen and a bathroom sink, or if that’s a recent development." Vaas says, locking the front door and quickly testing it, before turning around and directing an unimpressed face at his pouting paramour.

 

"For another, you know I do my half of the cleaning, today— like every Friday— so I am hoping against hope that you did _not_ fuck up that streak-free bathroom mirror that I so painstakingly Windexed only three hours ago."

 

(The decision of Past Him to leave the mirror in its problematically sullied state up to Future Him comes back to mind with 4K clarity.)

 

... _fuck_.

 

Two swift beeps behind Jason are followed by the hollow click-thunk of car doors being unlocked.  Automatically Jason matches pace with the male strolling by to his right, and they both navigate the small set of stone steps near the end of the pathway as the driveway  begins.

 

"No time to worry about that, now, though, huh?  We'll just see how that goes later?  For now, we gotta' get to set and start shooting for this ad campaign," the shorter of the pair says, circling the car’s front and brushing a stray bit of foliage from the edge of the glossy, red hood.

 

In tandem, the men slip into the flashy, low-riding sports car and slam their doors shut only a split-second apart.  Revving the engine, Vaas braces one arm on the passenger seat to look fully behind him as he reverses the car toward the street.  (Quietly, Jason begins to plan just how quickly— and sneakily— he can get to the master bathroom to do some cleaning, once they return home later that evening.)

 

Vaas turns back around as the car hits the main road, and smiles a bit manically.  He switches gears and barrels down the road, unfolding the sunglasses hanging from the deep ‘v’ of his shirt collar and sliding them onto his face.

 

"We gotta' prove that just because the director is fucking the lead actor on a project, that doesn't mean said project has to suck, mm?"

 

Looking at his slightly haunted-looking boyfriend in the passenger seat, the energetic driver chuckles and pats the rarely-seen beginning of a beard growing along an ashen face.

 

"¡Ánimo, scruffy!  I know this live action mini-movie-slash-trailer thing will be amazing: you make a _marvelous_ Nathan Drake.  The Uncharted Experience will be a hit, I promise, mi amor."

 

Meanwhile, delusionally, Jason wonders if he can hire someone to release a tiger in their home (or perhaps a bear? A komodo dragon?), and if _maybe_ the ensuing mess would be enough to distract his lover from the truly, very minor infractions he'd committed this morning.  To his side, said lover continues speaking, launching in on some cameo with a guy from that _Superbad_ movie.

 

Making responsive noises at what he hopes are the correct moments, he surreptitiously begins typing out a message to Vaas' assistant director:

 

' _Hey Carlos, kinda' have a weird request.  Do you still talk to that Buck guy with the exotic animals, because…'_

  _FIN_

* * *

 

 **¡Ánimo! -** Cheer up!  ( _Spanish_ )  [Interjection that equates to 'don't be sad!'.  Or so my research says...]

 

How many obnoxious in-game/Far Cry Experience references did you get?  (I wrote this at 4 AM on little to no sleep, so I actually do not know how many there are, myself.  B] )

 

(This was like a time machine to bb!me.   That is, this fic was the very first thing I ever worked on for this fandom.  Still, hoo boy: I might very well cringe myself into an early grave if I actually reread anything, herein.  Haha. Ha.  *cries internally*

Just wish I'd posted it on time!  If I'm not mistaken, this might have been around the time Uncharted 4 was coming out? Maybe?  So the "Uncharted Experience" thing might've been more topically relevant. Oh well.  Wonder if I'll ever pop back into this 'verse...)

\------ --

 

[Link to 'Jason' Cosplay Fanart](http://tealpenguins.co.vu/post/78860436118/i-noticed-how-different-the-male-and-female)

[Link to Tiz Arrior Pic(s)](https://www.google.com/search?q=tiz+arrior&biw=1368&bih=805&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwjw-JOunLzMAhWBGD4KHYRuAhYQ_AUIBigB)

[Link to (Original) Outfit in the Character File](https://www.google.com/search?tbm=isch&q=bravely+default+vampire&oq=&gs_l=#tbm=isch&q=bravely+default+female+vampire&imgrc=T64f77Eu5IwE4M%3A)

 

* * *

I'm on [Tumblr](https://citraisafuckboy.tumblr.com/)! c:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This joint is still unbeta'd, one year in, so mistakes are all my own.
> 
> (Although, as always, if I mucked up any of the Espanol (or any Google-translated languages), please let me know.)
> 
> P.S. Comments + kudos are still very much appreciated, friends. ♡


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